


The Fool

by Ploppypeach



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Episode Ignis Spoilers, Gen, I have a lot of feelings about Iggy's feelings, I'm Sorry, M/M, Overthinking, Thoughts throughout the scene, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:06:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ploppypeach/pseuds/Ploppypeach
Summary: Faced with Noct's unconscious body on the altar, Ardyn's offer, and the visions of the prophecy, Ignis has a lot in his mind. There's too much to think of.Ignis Scientia is a smart man.He is also a fool.





	The Fool

Ignis Scientia is a smart man.

  
He graduated at the top of his class, he was more than capable in keeping up with the adults in the council, and he proved time and time again that he was effective and efficient as Noct’s future advisor. He proved that he can act rationally and accordingly to whatever situation presented to him because of his brilliant mind.

  
But—

  
_Rain is falling heavily now. He can barely hear the words spoken to him as the insistent pitter patter of the rain combine with the constant thudding of his pulse against his temples_.

  
—seeing Noct’s unconscious body at the broken altar, Adryn offering Ignis to join him— the absurdity and impossibility of the offer being accepted was almost enough to make Ignis outright scoff at him— while he remained pinned to the floor by multiple MTs; well, Ignis never claimed all the intelligence in the world.

 

 

Ignis Scientia is a smart man; however, he is also young and in love.

  
He will soon find that love makes a fool of everyone.

 

 

Hindsight will prove to be merciless later on in his life—he knows this now— but at the moment, it was only him, Ardyn, and Noct. All he knew was if it was either himself or Noct, then it was Noct who gets to live. _Always Noct_. That was the smart decision. So when he saw the Ring of the Lucii, presenting itself as a solution, a means to an end— Ignis Scientia is a smart man, _or so he keeps telling himself_ — he took it as the obvious answer. He struggled free from the hold of the MTs, took the ring from the floor, and stood his ground.

  
The ring, heavy on his hand; his shoulders, heavier.  
His devotion outweighed everything else.

  
He thinks, _I dare you, I dare the Astrals, I dare Eos herself to try and take away Noct._

  
Catching his breath, he looks at Ardyn and maintains his stare, unyielding. Determined. “I swore an oath to stand with Noct and keep him safe.” He brings his hand up. He presents the Ring to Ardyn as if taunting him with it. An unspoken _watch me._

  
_I’ll do it or so the gods help me, I_ will _do it. Watch me. Try me._

  
He can hear the ring call to him, beckoning him, approving of what he intends to do with it. It mocks him, he knows; he knows the punishment for the unworthy and the price paid by the rare few deemed worthy enough to wield its power even for a short while. Regardless—

  
“Whatever it takes—”  
Ignis was a smart man and he made his choice.

 

“—I will protect him!"  
He chose Noct.

 

Always Noct.

 

 

  
He only wishes he is worthy enough.

 

 

  
He donned the ring.

  
A wave pulsed through his body, starting from his hand to his very core. It felt oddly like magnets of the same side repelling each other. Pulse after pulse, the ring was pushing him out. The ring was rejecting him because he was an unknown blood. It knew that its rightful bearer was close, but not close enough. The blasted thing had the nerve to call him only to throw him out.

  
He now thinks that a smart man would not have done what he did.

  
_The ring was luring him to an early death, tricking him, and he, the fool, heeded its call._

  
And, _oh_ , how Ardyn sees this as a source of mirth. “Ah-ah-ah!” Ignis can hear the amusement in his mock-reprimanding tone. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a warning that is purposely a little too late to add more insult to injury.

  
Ignis clutched at his own hand, as if in doing so, the ring would be forced to accept him. He fought hard to stay upright against the sheer force of the ring’s rejection— like gravity is weighing down on him a thousand fold.

  
It was getting harder to breathe. His whole body was racking for breath.

 

 _No_.

 

 

No.

 

“I may not be of royal blood,” he bargains, “but if a Glaive can harness its power, then so can I!” The ring pulses more. Greater pulses. It resonates in Ignis’ soul. _But it was not pushing him out anymore. It is trying to connect with him._

  
The ring feels less heavy.

  
Blue light.

  
Ignis starts to look up at the dark sky and he sees. He thinks he sees—

 

Everything is in bullet time.

 

—all of them up there, surrounding him, circling him like a judgement, testing his worth. Clad in their armor, poised overhead in majestic glory, lo and behold:

 

 

The Kings of yore.

 

 

 _Worthy or not worthy_. Their voices thundered in unison. They were looking down on him—such great presence in the night sky, the luminescent blue outlining them like constellations. Their hands were laid down on their weapons. _Bloodlust in the guise of a prayer._

 

 

 

They do not scare Ignis.

  
“Kings of Lucis, lend me your strength!” He requests and he commands. He commands them to save his prince, the King of Kings, because _damn it all to hell_ , this is their obligation. Their responsibility. _Ignis just wants Noct safe._

  
He will not back down. He will face the kings with all his resolve. He _will_ save Noct, whatever the cost.

 

 

 _Then, pay the price._ The judgement has been served.

 

 

 

The light.

  
White and blue flashing all at once. Bright. Visions swarming his sight. His eyes. Too much, all at once. The light. His hands was reaching out to cover his eyes.

 

He hears King Regis for a moment. Everything is too bright for him, but he can imagine the kind and somber look on his tired face. _I apologize, I couldn’t do much for you, Ignis. If it’s not too much to ask, please, continue to stand by him until the end._

There was never _too much_ that he can ask of him, Ignis thinks. _Always_.

 

 

 

  
_Worthy_.

 

 

 

  
The _light_.

 

Then the burning came, like his veins only know fire in them. The magic sings beneath his skin. His lungs feels like it's hacking dust. Every swallow in his throat tastes like _ash_. His body curled on himself from the pain. There is ringing in his ears. He is nowhere and everywhere. He pulled on his hair, gripping it tightly.

Excruciating pain.

  
Endless burning.

  
Excruciating pain.

  
Never ending burning.

 

It burns. _It burns. It burns. It burns. It burns. It burns. It burns._ It hurts _. It burns. It burns. It burns. It hurts. Everything hurts. It burns. It burns and it hurts and it burns and it hurts. His body is on fire._

 

It hurts. _It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts._ It burns _. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It burns. Too much. The pain. The burning. Visions. Where is he? What is he trying to do? Lady Lunafreya. Ravus. Ardyn. Altissia. Lady Lunafreya, dead. Ardyn. The ring. Noct. Noct. Noct. Noct. Save Noct. SAVE NOCT._

  
Loud heartbeat.

  
_He is reaching for Noct._

  
Excruciating pain.

  
Endless burning.

  
Excruciating pain.

  
Never ending burning.

 

 

 

Then—

 

 

 

 

  
Power.

 

 

He screamed.

  
He is gold, silver, and flesh, all at once. His veins are flooded with dense magic and it is flowing in tidal waves under his skin. He has never had so much energy buzzing inside of him, it feels like he is just a blur of static to the plane of reality.

  
For a moment, there was silence. His right hand was still cradling the right side of his face, while he looked at the other hand donning the ring in a daze as it flared with purple flames.

  
He vaguely feels burning in his left hand and right eye. He slowly looks up at the Chancellor as he breathes heavily.

  
Ardyn’s eyes have steeled.

  
Ignis straightened up. He felt like crystal turning into fractals and reassembling again; he was a few meters further from Ardyn than before. He put up his left hand and unclenched and clenched his fist, taking control of the borrowed power, then he put it back down by his side again. He braced himself as he looked at Ardyn dead-on in challenge.

  
Ardyn smirked.

  
“Well—” there was a pink glow and suddenly Ardyn was inches away from his face, “—they’ve shown you their favor, after all.” This close, Ignis could hear the low, menacing, rumble and purr in his voice; he felt chills in the air and in his body despite the fire that adorned him.

  
He fought Ardyn. He was a fool.

 

Weapons clashing against each other.  
Blades scathing skin.  
Battle cries voiced.

 

“No time to waste now. If you aren’t quick about it, you’re the one liable to wind up dead.” The ring is starting to consume Ignis from inside out. Ardyn is smug about it.

 

Whatever happens in this moment will decide the future.

 

A path drenched in blood.  
_A path less tainted_.

 

“What a pity, they're all too soft to show him the tough love he needs.” Noct has only known the silent and unvoiced kind of love. Ignis knows Noct needed a lot more than that. Ardyn knows nothing.

 

Sacrificial lambs, puppets on the strings of fate.  
_Masters of their own fate._

 

“Why not cease this futile charade? Your appeals to hope and loyalty will all come to naught in the end.” Noct is going to die to bring back the dawn. Ignis wants nothing to do with that truth. Ardyn will see to that truth.

 

For revenge.  
_For love_.

 

“No… You’re wrong!” Ignis refuses it.

 

For one's self.  
_For Noct._

  
  
Pryna’s vision plays itself out in Ignis’ head again. And again. _And again_. Ignis wants to badly to deny it, willing it away, wishing it never comes into fruition. Every strike of his dagger is a resounding _no_ to Ardyn, to the kings, and to the Gods. Ignis is not ready to let go of Noct.

  
He will never be ready.

  
Every fight left in his body screams for Noct. Fighting for Noct was never about protecting the King of Kings, the bringer of Dawn; it was protecting the boy standing behind his father on the dais when they first met, the boy who had the light in his eyes snuffed out when he saw Death come for familiar faces, the boy he cooked for just to bring back a smile on his face, the boy he took to see the stars with to escape the towering walls of the Citadel, the teenager with depression throwing a fit because he cared about his father, the young man he grew up to be and had everything taken from him once again, yet still reserving his smiles for his friends.

  
It was protecting someone who never owned his own life. There was never a question as to why Ignis volunteered his to Noct. Ignis took it in his hands and gave it to Noct, and he would give the universe to him if he could. Noct deserved that and more.

  
Ignis continued to lash out relentless blows to Ardyn even though he was choking—suffocated by the reality he alone knows that even until the end, Noct would never be able to take control of his own life.  
He has to stop Ardyn. If he can stop Ardyn, then, Noct—

  
Then, Noct can...

  
There is intense burning behind his eyelids, and Ardyn steps away. There is only the sound of rain and Ardyn’s mocking smile. “Whew, wasn’t that exhilirating? I think that’s enough for one day.” Ardyn moves to step back, signaling nearby MTs to fall back. Ignis makes a move to follow him, but he stays rooted to the spot as the magic drains out of him in one course. _His time is up_. He can feel his body giving. _It hurts_.

  
Ardyn retreats along with his army of magitek troopers, and Ignis is left with the rain, the burning, and visions of Noct.

 

No. _No, no, no, no, no, no. No. It can’t be. He can’t leave. He has to stop him so Noct doesn’t have to. No, no, no, NO._

 

His thoughts have spiraled out of control. How did it all go so wrong? The train of reasoning he started with have crashed and burned, and he was left with incoherent jumbled thoughts as soon as his prince was threatened. He was ineffective and inefficient. The magnitude of his stress drove him to a severe form of his usual bouts of overthinking.

  
He has failed.

  
No clinking of metal from the MTs, no mocking voice of a twisted Chancellor with delusions of revenge, and just the sound of an airship flying away until the roar of its engine is muffled by the distance.

  
Is he still standing? No, _he’s walking. Towards Noct._ He stumbles and lies down facing the sky, next to the still unconscious prince. He listens to the sound of his own ragged breathing. His eyes are still burning and it is only worsening by the second. He deserves this, this was his price to pay and his punishment. He hastily took off the ring from his hand and he can only hear it fall somewhere on the floor in his delirious state. _He has failed_.

  
He can hear footsteps.

  
“That was rather reckless of you.” _No need to remind me, I know._ He follows his gaze to the source of the sound; there was only a blur of white moving in front of him. His sight has never been this bad without the spectacles, but he knows this is Ravus.

  
“Where’s Noct?” He wheezes out. The ash is stuck in his lungs; he feels it weighing him down. Despite the rain, the dampness of his body is nothing compared to the dryness of his insides, like a desert on draught. “Is he… is he alri—” there was no stopping the coughing fit that followed. _Too warm. Too dry. Too much dust._

  
Ravus understands it all the same, fortunately. “More or less, thanks to you.” More silence.

  
Ignis wants to go to Noct, but he was still coughing, still wheezing, still too weak to do anything. He can see Ravus’ head look up a bit, and Ignis strains to follow his gaze but he cannot. He felt Ravus put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, urging him to lay back down. Ignis relaxes his muscles and tries to hear instead. He can hear Gladio and Prompto calling out to him and Noct in the far distance in desperation.

  
“Be still. Conserve your strength.” He makes out Ravus standing up. “You’ve a calling to fulfill. As do I.” Ignis weakly nods at that, acknowledging the roles they have to take from this moment forward. He has failed so this is how it has to be. “May fortune favor us both.” He wants to return the good wishes to Ravus, but everything is dimming, and Ravus was gone and then there was Gladio and Prompto close to him.

  
The world is becoming dark now and there are only unintelligible noises. He turns his head to the figure lying beside him. He wants to reach out, but his body has shut down. _Noct_. He has failed. “Please,” Ignis holds back his tears, “forgive me.” _Noct_.

  
He has failed.

 

And, he has doomed Noct.

 

He is a fool.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic after 4 or so years and it is about ignoct because I want to explore Ignis' thought process throughout this event.
> 
> I'm the-dragon-mastah in tumvlr and @ploppypeach in twitter so please talk to me about ignoct or ignis in general.


End file.
